


Family Blown Apart

by MrsDvlDg



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18739126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsDvlDg/pseuds/MrsDvlDg
Summary: A past case comes back to haunt Team Seven and Chris faces losing his team and second family to an explosive fire.





	Family Blown Apart

**Author's Note:**

> This started as just the first paragraph that I wrote to tease my sister since Chris is her favorite character. That little snippet took on a life of its own and fully morphed into this story. *shrug*   
> This is also my first time writing in the AFT universe.

Family Blown Apart

 

He sat tied to a chair in an empty room on the upper floor of a warehouse. A single overhead light and a TV connected to a security camera feed outside another warehouse were the only other things in the room. There was no sound to the feed but he didn't need sound to know what the rest of his team was saying as they entered the warehouse. The tension in the room was so thick that even the proverbial knife couldn't cut it. Any moment his team would discover that he wasn't in that warehouse and exit, angry and more determined than ever. Seconds ticked into minutes. Then a bright flash burst on the TV screen as Chris Larabee's team and second family were blown away in a warehouse explosion.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

JD shrieked with joy as he lit the fuse on another big firework. It flew up into the night sky where it burst with a fiery light. It brightened the faces of all of the men.

"Guys! This is great!" JD crowed. "I couldn't even light a sparkler growing up and now I can shoot them into the sky!"

Nathan shook his head in dismay. "Chris, why'd you have to go and get that permit to shoot off mortars? If the kid isn't careful, he's going to lose a hand."

"C'mon, Nathan. He's not doing bad. We only have two left anyway." Vin leaned back in his chair so that only two legs were left on the ground.

"And you! Stop leaning back like that! You could crack your head on a rock if that chair gives out!"

Josiah laughed loudly at the medic's fussing. Two cases wrapping up without a shot fired should have relaxed Nathan, but instead, it seemed to have made the man more paranoid than normal. Chris just sat on his porch railing watching JD and Buck shoot off the fireworks while slowly nursing his second beer of the evening. The only man not outside enjoying (or fussing over) the show was Ezra. When Chris had pulled out the package of mortars and the permit needed to shoot them off on his ranch, the undercover agent had quickly made an excuse to stay inside. The guys simply smiled at the excuse. Vin pulled out Ezra's favorite classical CD and handed it to him. While the rest headed out front, Ezra retreated to the den to listen to it.

"Seven rounds, Ez. I want you to come join us after," Chris said, leaving no room for argument.

As Buck and JD argued about which of the last two to set off, Vin looked at Chris.

_He knows how many rounds this year right?_

_Yep._

_Good._

The first year that Chris had gotten the permit and the big fireworks, Ezra had just started joining them regularly at team holidays. The mortars had been a surprise for JD who had listened to the rest of the team talking about shooting off fireworks and lamented growing up in Boston where he couldn't even light a sparkler. Chris invited everyone out to the ranch for a BBQ and fireworks. They had all brought a few to play with: sparklers, fire crackers, and Roman candles. After they'd exhausted all the "normal" fireworks, Chris surprised JD with the big mortars. He'd bought a box that year, planning on each of them shooting off one or two to put a cap on the evening. He'd lit the first one to surprise the group and that had almost been the only one that night. It had whistled up into the air and showered the ranch in a bright red light as it exploded. He'd looked back, grinning, to see not a single man watching the display. Ezra was crouched down behind a porch rocker, shaking worse than a leaf in the wind.

"No, no, no. Not again. Please, not again."

The southerner just kept rocking and pleading for some event not to happen again. It took Vin a good 15 minutes to even get close enough to rest a hand on the undercover agent's shoulder. Twenty-five minutes later, they finally got the story out of him. Maude was attempting to woo an Irish businessman into marriage and was preparing to travel with him from New York to Belfast in late May, 1972. With school being out for the summer, she had been unable to find someone to watch Ezra when they couldn't send him away for several hours of the day. She ended up taking her son with her, saying that it would be good for the boy to get to know "his soon-to-be new father." Trouble was, the businessman had no interest in children, and Ezra had spent a very boring June and July wandering around Belfast by himself.

"With nothing else to do, by the middle of July, I knew where the good shops were. I had wandered the city many times and knew how to talk to get myself out of trouble."

"Your mother let you wander around Belfast without adult supervision?" Nathan was incredulous.

"When it became abundantly clear that being a father was not a high priority, Mother painted a picture worthy of a Charles Dickens' novel. I would be sent to boarding school with no expectation of vacations home if I were a 'bother' to her paramour. So I did what I knew best by 9 years of age: I entertained myself away from Mother's business."

Ignoring the shaking heads, Ezra continued his tale. He took the bus to Cavehill Road early in the morning. There were lots of shops there, he said, that would entertain him for hours. Added to it, it was an area that families gathered in, so he could often find someone to talk to. Suddenly, he had heard someone shouting to run! He had looked back at the loud explosion and saw what happened to the people who hadn't gotten far enough away. JD looked curious as to what he meant, but Vin shook his head. No reason to ask for details if Ezra didn't want to volunteer them. When Ezra refused to stop the fireworks due to his "mental weakness," Chris left Josiah in charge of the fireworks. He, Vin, and Nathan took Ezra inside where Ezra spent the rest of the time tossing back a shot of scotch whiskey at every boom.

Chris had planned on never getting a permit again because he thought the little pleasure most of his team got out of the fireworks was not worth turning his normally unflappable undercover agent into a quivering mess. Ezra, however, had seen the bright light of joy in JD's eyes after getting to play with "the big ones." He insisted that he could tolerate the noise as he would not "put a damper on the joy of youth."

"After all, Mr. Larabee, I am perfectly able to conduct myself with decorum during a bust so I see no reason that I could not handle a few fireworks. I have thought it over, and it was simply the unexpectedness which brought that unpleasantness to mind last year."

Still hesitant, Chris gave in to Ezra's insistence and obtained the needed permit and seven mortar fireworks. They followed the previous year's pattern of ground fireworks followed by the mortars. It went much better with Ezra being prepared for the noise. The first two shots caused him to flinch slightly but the sky bathed in blue and then green seemed to pull him back into the wonder. The third shot bathed the sky in a bright red again. Ezra was up on the porch in a flash. Since Vin had set his off already, he asked Ezra to teach him about the finer points of bourbon, and they both went back to the den. When the rest came in, Ezra could not meet their eyes. It took a couple days before he accepted that they thought no less of him. Finally, the rest of the story came out. Chris could have shot Ezra then. It turned out Ezra saw the blast take out a 14 year old boy. The sight of what the flames did to that boy was seared on his memory.

"Since that summer in Belfast, I have never enjoyed fireworks. Blue, green, purple – those can still excite me, but red brings back memories of flames. I would rather face a hailstorm of bullets than exploding flames any day."

JD looked at Ezra. "You thought that my joy of fireworks was more important than you having fun at the party? I don't want them if you're going to have nightmares afterwards."

"Nightmares? Mr. Dunne, I never said anything about nightmares."

Vin raised his eyebrow. "Then why ya been mainlinin' my coffee, Ez?"

Ezra refused to answer. He knew that if he lied, the rest would see right through it. That was the trouble with letting people get close: they learned your tells.

Chris refused to apply for the permit again. He was shocked when it showed up on his desk. Ezra had applied for it for him. Stubborn southerner! The whole floor must have heard Chris's bellow with Ezra in his office.

"I don't care what you think we need to do to have fun! I refuse to put you through hell for nothing!"

"Mr. Larabee, it is not nothing. It is a tradition that our Mr. Dunne lost out on due to nothing more than where he was born. I will simply excuse myself for that portion of the activities. I worked through the issue last year by listening to music and can do so again. I will not allow my weaknesses to hobble the whole team."

"Christ, Ezra, limiting our fireworks to just the ground is not hobbling the whole team," Chris said, rubbing the throbbing vein on his forehead.

Vin came in at that point. Obviously Ezra had talked to the rest of the team and had gotten them onboard. They would shoot off one mortar for each member of the team with JD getting to do the honors. What point the mortars would occur was up for debate. Finally Ezra admitted that even with the music he would hear each explosion. Chris finally caved when Ezra admitted that he loved the rest of the fireworks so if they shot the mortars first, he would then be free to "play" with the rest.

As JD finally lit next mortar, Chris pulled himself back to the present. He had no idea how he'd stop this next year. However, he couldn't let Ezra keep putting himself through torture every Fourth of July. JD sent the last firework skyward. As the blue light faded, the screen door opened. Ezra stepped out onto the porch.

"Gentlemen, I trust you had fun." Ezra looked calm and composed to Chris, who planned on watching him the rest of the night.

The rest of the night consisted of firecrackers and Roman candles. Laughter flowed out of them. Nathan even relaxed and forgot to worry about missing fingers or burns.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris woke up early the next morning. As he stretched the kinks out of his neck, he slowly opened his eyes. They didn't have to be at work until Tuesday. There were benefits for sure when the 4th fell on a weekend. He quietly got out of bed and dressed. The horses wouldn't wait much longer. Tiptoeing down the hall, he was not surprised to smell coffee. No matter how early he woke up and how quietly he got ready, Vin was always awake, dressed, and drinking coffee when Chris got to the kitchen. He grunted in thanks as a hot cup was put into his hands. He took a cautious sip and was rewarded with a slightly sweet and creamy coffee taste. While he liked his coffee black most of the time, there was no way he would drink Vin's coffee without sugar and cream. The sniper brewed coffee that could run neck and neck with battery acid in removing a man's stomach lining.

After the coffee, both men headed to the barn to care for the horses. They entered the house to the smell of bacon and sausage frying and pancakes on the griddle. Chris smiled at the mixture of morning personalities around his table. They went from fully awake like he and Vin to brainless motions with half closed eyes (Ezra). Coffee and food wouldn't wake up his undercover agent, only time would do that. Time... like noon. Chris chuckled to himself as they worked together to clean up after breakfast. When someone suggested a trail ride, he was surprised to see Ezra wake up right in front of him. Guess time with Chaucer woke up the lazy southerner as well.

With the heat of the July sun beating down on them, they kept their pace slow and easy. The sun was at its highest point when they took a break near a small pond on the edge of the ranch. While most of the ranch was rocky grassland, this small part had lovely trees near the pond and the dirt was soft. All the horses were unsaddled and hobbled. The men stretched out under the shade of the trees, letting the heat pass without effort.

"You coming back to Denver with us, Chris?" Buck asked.

"Naw. I'm gonna wait until tomorrow afternoon. Still feeling the need for a bit of quiet."

JD raised up on his elbows. "You sure about that? Tomorrow afternoon is bound to have crazy traffic."

"JD, work starts at 8 am on Tuesday. I don't think it'll make me late to wait to come back tomorrow afternoon."

"I think the kid is worried about how much your vein throbs after a long weekend, Cowboy. Maybe it'll be worse if you have to deal with the holiday traffic," Vin said, his hat lying over his face.

"That vein throbs, as you call it, because a certain undercover agent seems to forget that work starts at 8, not noon, even after a long weekend." Chris glared in Ezra's direction. Ezra gave him a cheeky grin and a two fingered salute.

"Touché, Mr. Larabee. Touché. I shall endeavor to arrive at appropriate time on Tuesday."

Laughter rolled through the little clearing as the men got up, saddled the horses once again, and started the slow ride back to the house.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Tuesday morning arrived hot and dry. Burn restrictions were bound to be in affect soon if the heat didn't break, or if rain didn't wet things down a little. Traffic was heavy and congested early in the morning. Vin wasn't surprised to be the first into the office. Rarely did anyone beat him in except when Chris had nightmares all night. He was surprised when Ezra pulled up right behind him.

"Mornin', Ez. Guess you mean to make Chris have a headache by beating him in instead of being late." Vin's grin said that he looked forward to their boss's exasperation. Ezra flashed him that smirk that said he planned on exasperating Chris as much as possible.

Together they rode the elevator to the 11th floor. When Vin asked who was making the coffee, Ezra raised his large to go coffee and headed for his desk. He saw no reason to save the rest of the team from the usual flow of their morning routine even if that included paint removing coffee. Josiah and Nathan arrived together, 10 minutes before 8 am.

"Cuttin' it kinda close," Vin drawled.

"Would have been here sooner but Josiah's Suburban wouldn't start this morning. I had to swing by to pick him up."

Ezra laughed. "Pray tell, what apparatus on your dilapidated vehicle is malfunctioning this time?"

"The ignition coil again. Engine shut off every time I put it in gear." Josiah shrugged. "I'll replace it this evening."

At that moment, JD burst into the office. "I'm not late!"

As the clock said exactly 8 o'clock, JD's comment was accurate.

"JD, Chris isn't in yet. We can keep quiet you slid in right under the wire. Buck, however, is on his own." Nathan grinned at the relief on JD's face.

"Speaking of Mr. Wilmington, where is he at?" Ezra asked.

"We both overslept. Since he pushed me out of the way to take a half hour shower, I rode my bike in. He won't risk ‘Lady’ in this traffic."

Buck finally arrived 20 minutes later.

"JD! You are lucky you arrived in one piece! You are going to break your neck riding that monstrosity"

"My bike is not a monstrosity. It's a finely tuned machine that works better in heavy traffic than your truck!"

The other four men retreated to the break room as Buck and JD started their daily bickering. As they stood in the break room around the coffee pot, it finally occurred to them that Chris hadn't made it in yet.

"By chance, did he communicate with any of you other gentlemen a change in arrangements to not come into Denver until this morning?" Ezra asked, his language at odds with the worry in his eyes.

"Nope."

"Not to me."

"Aw, hell. Somethin's gotta be wrong. He didn't call me either."

The break room door suddenly opened. Buck and JD looked around.

"Where's Chris? He never lets us argue this long," Buck said, taking a good look around to the others.

Josiah grabbed his cell to try calling Chris as Vin searched his office for possible clues as to why he would be missing. Buck tried calling Chris at the ranch while JD sat down at Chris's computer and hacked into his email. Nobody got any answers. With his poker face firmly in place, Ezra started making phone calls to his snitches. Nathan headed up to Judge Travis's office to report that the leader of Team 7 was missing.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris opened his eyes slowly. The light seared his eyes as if he'd been on a drinking binge again, however he did not have a headache. Instead his brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. There was a distant buzzing sound from above him. Squinting in pain, he looked up to see what sounded so far away was actually fairly close: a single florescent light that was flickering. He dropped his head back down as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. With a groan he surrendered back to the darkness he had just fought out of. When he came around a second time, the room seemed lighter through his closed eyes. He kept his eyes firmly shut instead of opening them as well as kept his head still. This helped keep the nausea at bay and allowed him to start to wake up mentally. As he got his wits about him, he remembered bits and pieces of the last time he was actually awake.

Early in the afternoon on Monday, Chris had loaded up what he needed for the week in Denver. The small studio apartment that he used during the work week wasn't spacious but it certainly was better than trying to avoid traffic into Denver every morning. Sometimes, he dealt with the traffic so he could have open space in which to deal with the emotions that still rode him hard when anniversaries came around. But July wasn't a bad time for memories for him. He headed back off to Denver. A good portion of the start of his trip was on winding local roads. As he rounded a corner, he saw a car with its hood up on the shoulder of the road. Two young women stood looking at the engine, appearing to be very worried.

"Need a hand, ladies?" Chris asked, getting out of his truck behind their car.

"That would be great. We got lost and pulled over to look at the map. When we tried to start the car, it wouldn't turn over."

Chris smiled at them as he started checking the battery and connections. There didn't seem to be anything obviously wrong. He leaned farther into the engine to see what else might be wrong. He heard a small pop and then the world went fuzzy and black. Now that he was waking up he figured that those women had drugged him and put him in this room. What he couldn't figure out was why he was still alive. Most criminals would have taken great joy in ending the leader of the most successful ATF team in the country. He knew the government wouldn't ransom him. He also knew his team wouldn't let him die. Fools would hunt his kidnappers down and rescue him. Of course, that didn't mean that any of them would get out of this without a trip to the ER. Since there was no one around to give him answers at the moment, Chris passed time by making a mental list of what he was available to him to get out of this predicament by himself.

Orin Travis rested his head in his hands. Nathan had thrown his relatively calm morning right to hell with his announcement that Chris Larabee was missing. Thankfully, the team did not have an active case going which meant he was free to tell them to work their leader's disappearance as a priority. What had him worried was his superiors' reaction to the missing leader of Team 7. Chris had the loyalty of each and every man on his team, loyalty that extended to him to a small degree, but no higher. Travis's superiors worried that without Chris's iron control, the team would go rogue. With any luck, Nathan and Josiah would be able to maintain their level heads which would balance the hotter heads of the team. As long as they continued operations as normal (for them), Travis could keep his superiors from grabbing the reins. With one last sigh, he lifted his head and opened his email.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Nathan entered the bullpen to an eerie silence. There was no bickering, no teasing, no debates. Buck and Ezra were talking quietly to people on the other ends of their phones. JD was typing away on his computer. Josiah and Vin were sorting files into different stacks.

"We have a plan yet?" Nathan asked the room in general.

Josiah looked up. "Buck is talking to his PD and state patrol friends. He's got an APB out on Chris's truck. Ezra has been calling every snitch he knows, trying to see if the criminal underworld is buzzing. JD is searching the internet for any mention of Chris since Sunday. He's already flagged every bank account and credit card Chris uses. Vin and I are going through our case files to put them in order of most likely to least likely retaliation risks."

"Until we git anything more to go on, all we can do is put the pieces where we can find 'em easy." Vin looked distraught at not being out hunting for his best friend.

Buck slammed down his phone and pulled open his desk drawer. A rubber chicken went flying through the bullpen, bouncing off of Chris's door.

"You can't just disappear on me, Chris! It ain't right!" the normally jovial man screamed at the door.

Josiah handed Nathan his stack of folders. He pulled Buck into the conference room while everyone watched in silence. Nathan then looked around. The other three men met his eyes so that he could assess their states of mind. Even Ezra let Nathan in deeper than normal, knowing that the EMT would worry about his emotional stability otherwise. He didn't want that worry to distract from the energy needed to find Chris. With a nod, Nathan let everyone get back to their own tasks. He quickly figured out the ranking system that Vin and Josiah had started, taking the profiler's place while he calmed Buck down.

A ringing telephone cut through the silence of the office. It was Buck's line. JD rolled over and answered it. He picked up a pen and started writing down a message. Thanking the person on the other end, he hung up the phone as AD Travis walked into the room. Something in his eyes made JD's smile fade. Vin tapped on the conference room door. Travis waited until all six men were back in the bullpen before pulling out a single sheet of paper.

"JD, once we're done here, come up to my office and try to trace where this message originated. Gentlemen, when I finally opened my email this morning I had a message from an unknown sender. I don't think Chris is just missing. I think he was kidnapped."

Travis handed the paper to Josiah, who took a breath before reading the words out loud.

"'Team 7 is not magnificent. They're led by a murderer who must suffer as we suffer.'"

Vin turned back to the file stacks. With a sigh he commented, "Guess we have a better direction for sorting now."

JD started to follow Travis up to his office. "Oh guys, the phone call was from Boulder County. They found Chris's truck. 'Bout two miles from his house." He then went upstairs to try tracing the email.

Josiah took the files from Vin. "You and Buck go check out his truck. Both of you will be better for getting out of here."

Grabbing the crime scene bags, Chris's two best friends headed out to try to figure out why Chris's truck had been abandoned.

Nathan looked up at the clock. It was nearing 11 am.

"Ezra, Josiah, go get us some lunch. I'm going to recheck these files for perps who died during raids. By the time you get back, you two can crosscheck for family that would want revenge," he said, noting Ezra's mouth open, most likely to argue. "Here's $40. I'm buying, but you two are getting it."

With a huff that said Nathan wasn't fooling him, Ezra grabbed his suit coat and headed for the door. "Nothing messy, Mr. Sanchez, as we must take my Jag." Seeing a smile that lessened the harsh words, Josiah laughed and followed Ezra to the parking garage.

The knot in Nathan's stomach eased just a bit. They were stressed to the max, but the bonds of their dysfunctional family were still intact.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Buck stared straight ahead as he and Vin rode in his truck out to where's Chris's had been found. While just getting on the road had helped smooth some of the rough edges of his emotions, Vin was coiled tighter than a pissed off rattlesnake. It was good that he had had that talk with Josiah, because as far as he could tell, Vin was going to keep winding himself up until he exploded. Buck knew that he would have to be the "reasonable" one of the duo. Arriving at the scene, Buck parked on the opposite side of the road. Vin grabbed the markers while Buck pulled out the camera. Even though he'd spent time in DPD Homicide, Buck knew that Vin had a sharper eye for details than he did.

"There was a car parked in front of him. Maybe he stopped to help and that's how they got 'im."

Vin paced on the road, back and forth, putting down marker after marker. Buck waited for Vin to tell him to start taking pictures. He'd lost count of the number of times that Vin had snarled at him in the early months of the team to "keep his elephant-sized feet offa the evidence." Eventually, he'd learned to just wait. At Vin's nod, Buck took the pictures. Afterwards, they worked together bagging each piece. Everything was properly secured in the truck before Buck noticed that Vin was staring at the drag marks that had probably been made by Chris's feet.

"What's up, Junior?" he asked.

As Vin turned toward him, Buck felt kicked in the gut at the absolute despair he saw in Vin's eyes.

"Oh, Vin..." Buck reached for the younger man.

Vin stepped back, shaking his head. "No. Ya touch me, 'nd I'll lose it. Can't lose it because then it'll be like I'm admittin' that we've lost  _him_. Can't lose more family now that I've got'un again."

"Alright. As far as I can tell, whoever took Chris didn't touch his truck. So there's no harm in driving it into Denver." Buck smiled at Vin's hesitant grin. "It's unlocked, and keys're in it. Federal building would be the safest place for it right now."

Vin dashed over to Chris's truck and climbed in. After starting the engine, he rolled the window down. "Thanks, Bucklin."

"Any time, Junior. Let's see what we can all put together now we got something to go on."

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Orin rolled his shoulders again, trying to release the tension that had settled between his shoulder blades. He'd sent JD back to the office after half an hour. It was sheer self preservation on Orin's part. The kid never stopped moving or talking during that time. JD had written down everything he'd need to start a long term trace on the email from his own computer. The rest of the afternoon had been spent juggling his superiors as well as the other teams in the building. Team 7 had no middle ground with anyone. They were either loved or hated, by both those in charge of ATF and their fellow teams.

With a long sigh, he leaned back in his chair, looking toward his clock. Oh Lord, Evie was going to have his hide. It was already 6:30. His wife was usually tolerant of the hours this job sometimes caused, but to be so late and not have called was asking that woman to lose her temper. He should probably pick up some roses on the way home. He got up and headed out of his office. To his surprise, his secretary looked up at him from her desk.

"Judge Travis, I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of calling your wife this afternoon. I informed her of the disappearance of Mr. Larabee and the likelihood of your being home late this evening."

"Thank you, Alice. I completely lost track of time."

"You're quite welcome. Mary also stopped in today but you were on the phone with Senator Redd. She said she was going to stop by and see Chris too and left before I could tell her what was going on."

"I'll stop by the team seven office then. Knowing my daughter-in-law, she's most likely pestering them with questions yet." There was a fond smile accompanying the exasperation in his eyes.

Mary wasn't in the office when Orin entered. In fact, until he heard the voices in the conference room, he thought the men had headed home. He walked into what looked more like a military mission than a kidnapping investigation.

"Boys! What are you still doing here?"

They looked at each other. Ezra looked at Orin and said, "Judge, we do not want to let any one of us out of sight outside of this building. However, none of our residences are large enough to accommodate us all together."

"You gentlemen will burn out if you don't get some rest." Orin held up his hand as six men opened their mouths to argue with him. "No. You are not going to stay here around the clock. Pair up; stop by your homes; grab whatever you need until Sunday. I'm giving you permission to work this case from Mr. Larabee's ranch. If there is no new information by Monday morning, then we'll meet in my office at 9 to discuss the next steps. I understand your need to keep working, but you're going to do it where you can sleep and eat as well."

Relieved when they nodded and started packing up, Orin helped by volunteering to move the board they'd set up to Buck's truck with JD's help. Vin and Ezra put files into boxes and carried them out to Ezra's Jag. Josiah and Nathan shut off lights and locked doors before heading to Nathan's Explorer. With the pairs naturally occurring from the packing up, the men made a few more decisions. Buck and JD would be in charge of picking up supper for the whole team tonight as they only had one stop to make for clothes. With the files in the Jag, there wasn't room for much more so Vin and Ezra would head straight to the ranch and try to catch Tiny to let him know that he didn't have to come care for the horses in the morning. Nathan and Josiah would stock up on groceries, either from their homes or a nearby store before heading to the ranch. Last thing Orin heard as Team 7 finally left the Federal Building was Vin and Ezra's argument of whose turn it was to pay the street kids to guard the Jag outside Vin's apartment.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Orin looked at the six men standing in his office. They had presented a strong case for hitting a known drug house up in Boulder. It wasn't a sure thing but since each passing hour made it less likely that they would find Chris alive, Orin couldn't tell them no. It was strong enough to take a chance on. He told them to suit up and to also sign out a van. No point in them driving three vehicles all the way to Boulder since Josiah's Suburban was still out of commission.

"In fact, gentlemen, just keep the van and gear signed out until you find Chris. You need to be able to run down any lead you can find as soon as you find it. All I ask is that you let me know where you're hitting before you hit it." He looked at the group, knowing his reputation was going on the line with these men. "I don't think I need to tell you but I'm going to anyway: I'm giving you boys a lot of rope."

The group nodded, their eyes serious with the weight of the situation. Orin Travis was their strongest advocate. Just as they wouldn't let Chris down, they would not let Travis down. They might not have called him family, but he was sure as hell a close family friend.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

The house that Team 7 hit was on the edge of a low income neighborhood. At night it was filled with homeless dope heads. Middle of the afternoon had the house mostly empty as its residents were awake and searching for their next fix. Judge Travis had already given Boulder PD the head's up, and they had secured the area. Chris Larabee was known as a surly, dangerous man when he was at the peak of health. Injured or incapacitated turned him into a highly dangerous animal. All the area cops knew that after being held for 48 hours the only men who could safely touch Larabee would be those of his team.

Buck, JD, and Nathan hit the front door at the same time as Vin, Ezra, and Josiah hit the back door. After quickly clearing the first floor, the front team headed down into the basement while the back team checked upstairs. T.O. Johnston and his rookie, Parker, watched six dejected men walk out of the crack house. He tensed up as two of them walked toward his patrol car.

"Officer, there are two bodies in the house. Looks like it's been at least a day since they overdosed."

"Thanks, Agent..." Johnston trailed off.

"Jackson. They're down in the basement."

"Thanks, Agent Jackson. I'm sorry you didn't find your man," he said, holding out his hand.

Both men shook his hand, nodding with thanks to the cop's sympathy.

The other agent said, "We'll find him. Chris is too tough to give up anytime soon."

Johnston then cringed as Parker decided to open his mouth.

"What do you know, kid? I mean, are you even an agent?"

Stepping between his rookie and the now angry Jackson, Johnston looked both agents straight in the eyes.

"I'll fix him, Agents. He's trying to fill boots that don't fit him."

After glaring at Parker, Nathan and JD headed back to the rest of the team. JD silently cursed the genetics that gave him such young features without the ability to grow a decent mustache, but he had long ceased worrying about the opinions of others. Especially since he knew Chris valued his skills, and his brothers had his back.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Another 24 hours passed. Three more buildings were raided. There was no sign of Chris in any of them. The soul deep haunted look was back in Vin's eyes. Ezra's poker face was firmly in place. JD had stopped chattering as he read files and checked the still running trace on that only communication. Buck's optimism was fading; he was failing his brothers. Even Josiah and Nathan were subdued. Was Chris still alive or would they find only a body? Even worse, would they never know what happened to the head of their family?

Suddenly, JD's computer started beeping wildly. He rushed over, hit a couple of keys, and whooped!

"Guys! I have a location where the email was sent from!" He looked at the address on his screen, puzzled. "That's in a run-down warehouse. There shouldn't even be internet in that building. I think the trace took so long because somebody created a remote hot spot and it kept going in and out..."

Buck grinned at the torrent of words.

"Kid, breathe! What's the address?"

As JD rattled it off, Vin jolted like he'd been hit in the gut.

"I know that place," he said, running for a stack of discarded files. "I put it in the 'unlikely' category since the boss and his sons were killed. Here it is."

Vin handed the file to Josiah. The profiler looked over the details and started crosschecking the information on the internet.

"He had two daughters that he shielded from his illegal activities while grooming his boys to take over. They were distraught at the deaths of their father and brothers. Apparently, they tried suing the ATF and us. Legal must have decided not to tell us about it, since by the time the suits were filed, we had been fully cleared of any wrongdoing."

"I think that that policy, if it is one, should be changed immediately. Even having been dismissed right after filing, the knowledge of the suit would have given us a head's up that these women were angry," Ezra declared.

"Damn right, Ez. Nathan, can you call Judge Travis? Let's hit this warehouse. Even if Chris isn't there, this place should get us closer to him." The despair had left Vin's eyes, and in its place was what Josiah often called their Texan's "righteous fire."

Within half an hour, Travis had been informed and approved their raid. The team hummed with resolve as they headed toward the abandoned warehouse.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris groggily fought back the inky blackness that threatened to consume him. He'd lost track of the hours to the point where he didn't know how many days he'd been tied to the chair. Occasionally he would wake to water being poured in his mouth. It wasn't regular, and never enough to replace what he'd sweated out. Each time, a blindfold had covered his eyes. When he'd wake up again, it would be gone. A TV had shown up after the first drink. The warehouse on the screen looked familiar, but he was unable to figure out why, especially as time went on, and he became more dehydrated. Only his stubbornness kept him from giving in to the weakness his body felt. He knew his men were coming. They just needed the right clue to bring in the cavalry.

He'd tried to figure out why his captors had him watching a warehouse. It wasn't the one he was in. He knew he was on the second story because when he'd tried to move the chair toward the window in the room, the floor was hollow sounding under his feet. He didn't get far with that as he heard a chain move as well. Someone had chained the steel chair to the floor. The warehouse on the TV had no windows on the second level. Just a single outside stairway leading up to a solid door.

_Why did that place look so familiar?_ Chris thought, thoroughly frustrated.

Movement on the TV pulled him from the thoughts. An ATF van pulled up outside the warehouse. He could recognize each man by the way they moved toward the building. Adrenaline flooded his body.  _Soon,_  he thought,  _soon we'll take these bastards down._

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Pulling up to the warehouse, the men thought back to almost a year and a half ago. This was the culmination of 5 months undercover work by Ezra, winning the confidence of Victor Navitch and his sons, Oliver and Lucas, who were expanding their legitimate explosives business into the criminal realm to reap the rewards of money. This particular warehouse had been a chop shop until the crackdown on gang activity put it out of business. For a man moving into the underworld, an abandoned building was just what was needed to provide anonymity. Unfortunately, there was no place for Vin to get up high to cover them so when the Navitches started firing their guns instead of surrendering, it was a long fight. Team 7 took cover behind cars left partially cut up while the Navitches ducked behind the welding tanks. Bullets ricocheted off of the gas canisters, car frames, and support beams. Multiple internal investigations later, no one could determine whose bullet broke the valve on an acetylene tank with a spark that set off the gas. All the tanks had low pressure, and the gas was unstable. That first tank set off the rest. When the shrapnel stopped flying, all three perps were dead. Team 7 limped out with lots of cuts, one broken ankle, three fractured arms, and a dislocated shoulder. They were kept overnight for observation and then released before the nursing staff could strike from having to keep the men in their assigned beds.

Getting out of the van, the men paired up. Vin and JD headed up the stairs to the second level. Buck and Nathan took the front door while Ezra and Josiah took the door next to the garage door. As one, they penetrated the doors simultaneously. JD hit the lights upstairs shortly before Nathan found the switches on the main level. Both levels were empty. At the top of the interior staircase was a prototype wireless internet connection.

"Oh lord!" came a cry from Josiah.

Vin and JD raced down to the main level. Buck was already studying the mess of wires and explosives set up through the whole level. He paced, cursing under his breath.

"What's up Buck?" Vin asked.

"Well, what's up is that we dashed headlong into a trap. There's no getting out of here."

"Mr. Wilmington, there are three exits out of this death trap," Ezra said, eyes widening.

"Can't. Opening a door will trip the explosives now. Those women must really hate us because there's no way to disarm these."

"What d'ya mean no way to disarm 'em?" Vin asked.

"Those women linked the circuits in such a way that if we cut the diffusing wire on one of these, it'll set the rest off. And we are down to 8 minutes."

With a wild cry, Ezra turned to bolt for the nearest door. He ran right into Josiah who promptly grabbed hold of him. The profiler held tight to the wildly flailing undercover agent. Vin ran back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Aw hell, they wired the door up here too. Dammit."

"Think fast, friends! Ezra's slipperier than a greased pig at a county fair!" Josiah grunted at a flying elbow connecting with his chest.

JD poked his head in a darkened doorway under the staircase.

"Guys! This place has a basement!"

"Head down! Hopefully it'll hold up for us," Nathan ordered.

Wrestling Ezra to the stairs, Josiah lined up his fighting charge and let go. Ezra flew down the steps with Josiah and JD close behind. Buck nodded to Nathan to head down. Vin arrived back on the main floor.

"Really? A basement?"

"Come on, Junior. We'll be right there with you."

Buck reached out and grasped the now shaky sniper. He prayed that there weren't too many spiders down there. It was going to be hard enough dealing with Ezra's PTSD and Vin's claustrophobia. They didn't need JD's arachnophobia making an appearance too.

The countdown kept ticking as Vin attempted to go down the steps into the basement. There were only three minutes left before Buck could coax the Texan to enter into the dim, enclosed staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, Buck looked around. Josiah seemed to have gotten Ezra calmed down enough to the point where the Southerner was studying the structure of the basement. Nathan had a soothing hand on JD's shoulder. The youngest of them kept swiping at his face. A wry smile covered Buck's face. Kid most likely had walked into a web. Josiah walked over to Buck and started talking in a low voice.

"This doesn't help us much. Look at those support beams. They're completely dry-rotted. It's a wonder that this place hasn't caved in yet. I don't know what Ezra is doing but he's sure there's a way out of here." Josiah shrugged.

Buck tightened his hold on Vin before he could run back up the stairs.

"Nope, pardner. We're trusting Ezra."

With a soft exclamation of victory, Ezra pushed on part of the basement wall. It slid open! The rest of the team stared in amazement.

"How?" JD asked.

"History, Mr. Dunne. History. This area of Denver had an active underground network of illegal liquor depositories and speakeasies during Prohibition. This door leads into the storm drain system. Since the weather has been dry, it's quite safe to use."

"So we just have to go to the next building?" Vin asked.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Tanner. We will in all probability have a lengthy distance to transverse in order to find another building with a similar entrance. Many no longer work or are too risky to use. Also, there's no point in having your depositories right next to your speakeasy," Ezra replied, knowing that the Texan was going to have a rough time of it. He was walking away from his fear; Vin would have to walk even farther into his.

Vin looked back up the staircase longingly. Even without Chris's connection with Vin, Buck knew what he was thinking.

"Nope. Not letting you go back up there. There's not enough time. If I don't get you out of this alive, then Chris will kill me."

"'Nd then he'd kill me agin. Aw hell. Fryin' pan, fire. Dammit." His accent became heavier as Vin paced in small, fast circles. "Fine. Let's go b'fore I change m' mind."

With a deep breath, Vin marched through the entrance into the drainage system. The rest followed, and Ezra pushed the door shut as he exited.

"No need to advertise our survival to the Navitch women," he said. "If I remember correctly, we need to go this way."

Heading to their right, Ezra started leading the team away from the deadly building. The loud boom above them made all of them flinch this time. Praying to anyone listening, they hoped Chris was still okay.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

A soul-wrenching wail filled the room as the TV screen mercifully went black. The blackness that had been his constant physical companion for days was nothing compared to the deep despair that now gripped him emotionally. Buck was gone, and with him, Chris's last connection to Sarah and Adam. Vin, whose calming presence, soothed all of Chris's rough edges to tolerable. Nathan who fussed over his physical well-being; Josiah who fussed over his spirit; JD who reminded him that life was to be lived; all of them gone. And Ezra, who had yet to fully exit that shell of his, died in the way of his worst nightmare. The sound stopped when Chris's burning lungs finally filled with air again. He then realized the wail was from him. Soft, feminine laughter was the last thing he heard as he surrendered to the black.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

A soft knock on his door had Orin looking up from the paperwork on his desk.

"Come in."

Alice stood in his doorway, pale and shaking.

"Judge Travis, there's a call for you on line 2. It's..." Her voice broke. Swallowing hard she tried again. "It's Denver PD. It's not good news." She turned back to the outer office, shutting the door after her.

Orin picked up the phone. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but the news being delivered was not it. The warehouse that Team 7 had gone to check for Chris in had exploded in a ball of fire and collapsed in on itself. The resulting fire would have incinerated anyone left alive after the blast. There was a van parked outside registered to the ATF. The plate was the same as the one on the van being used by Team 7. Since there was no sign of the men outside the building, DPD called Travis to inform him that some of his men were missing, mostly likely dead. He hung up the phone and stepped out of his office. His secretary sat rigidly in her chair, eyes bright red with unshed tears.

"Alice, I need the next of kin files for Team 7. Quickly because I don't know how long we can keep this quiet."

The request started tears flowing down her cheeks, but she nodded and retrieved the requested file. Travis took it and headed back into his office. The unique situation of Team 7 having few blood family members meant that most of his calls would be to those they had adopted into their hearts. His heart was heavy as he picked up the phone to call Mary. He'd tell her first, because as a reporter, the knowledge would reach her before any of the others.

A couple of hours later, Orin leaned back in his chair. He had always liked the women that Team 7 had adopted as their family, but he had discovered a deeper respect for all of them. Voices had quivered when told the news, but not one of them had broken down into hysterics. He didn't actually talk to Hannah as her state of mind was so fragile, but the staff at her facility said that they would break the news gently to her when she would be lucid enough to understand it. He had one last phone call to make, and he was dreading it. Maude never hid her dislike of Ezra's career. She dismissed the passion he had and, even worse, called it a "waste of his God-given talents."

The phone rang and rang. Finally a voicemail message picked up. As much as he wanted to, Orin couldn't leave a message telling Maude that Ezra was dead. He simply asked her to call him back at the earliest possible time and left his cell phone number in case she called after he left the office. Walking out to talk to Alice, he saw that many of the other teams' leaders were sitting in the waiting area. They were divided into two groups: those who hoped the rumors weren't true and those that thought their own lives would be easier without Team 7 around.

"Gentlemen, I don't have any details yet, but at the reports by the Police Commissioner and Fire Marshall, Team 7 was killed a warehouse explosion today while trying to find Chris Larabee. The warehouse they were raiding was from the Navitch case. Turns out those men have very angry female relatives." He took a look around the group. "I don't care what your personal feelings or those of your teams are about Team 7. They are... were... good ATF agents. I want those women found and arrested so that they can be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

Not waiting for a response from anyone, Orin walked out of his office. He didn't know where he was headed until he found himself in Team 7's bullpen. A rubber chicken still lay on the floor next to Larabee's office door. A picture of all seven dressed in wild west clothes from one of his wife's parties hung on the wall. He could see the personalities of each man on the six desks. He swallowed hard as his cell phone rang. The number was from Europe.

"Hello, Maude. I have some bad news..."

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

The doors of the emergency room burst open. EMTs pushed a gurney in with an unconscious Chris Larabee on it.

"Caucasian male around mid 40s. Severely dehydrated. Unresponsive at the scene."

As the doctors took over, a nurse took a good look at the face.

"Oh my goodness! That's Chris Larabee!"

"Who?" asked one of the doctors.

"An ATF agent from Denver. He was reported missing two days ago by his team."

"I doubt it was by choice. He's got deep ligature marks on his wrists and ankles. It looks like he was tied to something."

"I'll find someone to call about him. His team will be relieved to hear he's been found," the nurse said as she headed for the desk.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Orin Travis felt his phone buzz with another incoming call. He managed to hold the sigh inside as he listened to Ezra's mother continue her tirade about the government brainwashing her precious baby boy into doing dangerous work and now he was dead because of it. He let her grief stricken anger wash over him until she blamed the men Ezra had worked with.

"They lied to him. They told him that they would have his back!" she wailed.

"Listen to me, Maude," Orin growled, "Agent Larabee is missing, most likely kidnapped. Ezra was with the rest of the team when that explosion occurred. His team did not abandon him." The hours of holding back his own feelings under a veneer of professionalism caused him to be harsh with her.

Silence reigned for a brief moment and then Maude Standish What-ever-the-hell-her-name-was-now hung up the phone. When it immediately rang again, Orin was actually relieved to see it was his own office number. Alice had taken a message from a hospital ER in Pueblo. Chris had been found at a rest area off of I-25 and was being admitted for severe dehydration and malnutrition. He was in serious but stable condition. Orin thanked Alice for the message and called Evie to let her know he was heading to Pueblo. She told him to stay put until she arrived.

"You are not in any frame of mind to be driving to Pueblo by yourself, Orin Woodrow Travis! Add to that, Chris will need someone that he can cry to. You're his boss first, friend second. It's just how both of you are. I'm driving you."

When his wife was in that mode, Orin quickly bowed to her wishes. He also knew she was right. It was not going to be easy to tell Chris that his whole team was gone. He'd had enough of delivering bad news to people today. He headed up to his office to collect his coat. He'd meet Evie at the door.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

It was very slow going for Team 7 as they walked along the edges of the storm drainage system. Ezra tried to keep them moving at a good pace, knowing that when the sun went down, their minimal light coming through the storm drains would be gone. Vin had done remarkably well. He'd had two panic attacks that the whole team talked him through. JD had suggested that instead of trying to find a speakeasy entrance that they call for help. Buck slapped him on the back of the head.

"Kid, where'd we leave the cell phones? Remember? We didn't want them going off when we took the doors?"

"Oh yeah. We left them in the van."

"Mr. Dunne, I do believe it would behoove us in the future to have you instruct us in how to cease the audible reverberations of our cellular devices."

"What?"

"He means tha' he wants t' know how to silence his cell phone, JD," Vin translated.

"Wow, you're starting to speak 'Standish'."

"Shut up, JD."

Ezra consulted the map he had memorized in his head.

"Gentlemen, in about half a block, we should be at a speakeasy that still has a working door."

In the hopes that their light at the end of the tunnel was not a train, the men started moving though the tunnels again.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris was awake when Orin and Evie Travis entered his hospital room. Just one look into his boss's eyes told him that the hazy memory of watching his team die in a warehouse explosion was not a nightmare brought on by dehydration. He reached to pull out his IV drip.

"Not so fast, Agent Larabee. You're staying put until the doctors say you can go."

"It's my team, Judge."

"I know. But they figured out who was behind your kidnapping and gave that information to me. The highway patrol has already pulled the video feed from the rest area you were found at. We have a good shot of the car that tossed you out. All you need to do right now is to focus on getting better so those that care about you stop worrying."

"Like who, Judge? The team was  _all_  I had in the way of family." Chris's words were laced with bitterness.

Travis had not known Chris until he formed the team. He was aware of the depression Chris had spiraled into following the deaths of his wife and son. However, without firsthand knowledge of how deep he truly went, Orin was unable to help the hurting leader.

Evie stepped up and took Chris's hand.

"Me, Mr. Larabee. And Mary and Billy. Nettie and Casey. Inez. Raine. We're still here, and we  _need_  you. You're our living connection to our boys that will live in our hearts."

Chris glared at Mrs. Travis until his eyes watered. As the tears started falling, Evie Travis pulled the grief-stricken man tight into her arms. She sat on his bed with him and rocked him until he fell asleep.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Now needing the flashlights that they carried on their gear, Ezra found the switch that opened the hidden door into the basement of an abandoned speakeasy. He led them into a room that was obviously being updated and remodeled.

"Are you sure we're safe here? We're not going to set off any alarms, are we?" Buck asked.

"I have not gotten around to installing alarms on this property, Mr. Wilmington."

Five men stared at the sixth.

"I never told you?" he asked, blushing deeply.

"No, son, you haven't," Josiah answered.

"Why would you alarm this property?" asked Nathan.

"Well, I own it." Ezra tried to leave it at that, but he could see his brothers needed more answers. He sighed and continued. "I bought it because I wanted someplace to run to if I needed to disappear while undercover. I had several such places in Atlanta. When you don't know if your team will actually have your back, it pays to have plans B, C, and D. I've never had to use this place since joining you gentlemen. I guess I forgot to tell you about it."

Buck patted Ezra's shoulder. "Well, it worked out well for us then. Those women won't think to look for us here."

"Yeah, but will anybody else?" JD wondered.

"I have a burner phone or two somewhere here. Let me find one and get it charged. Then we can inform the world that we are  _not_  dead."

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Orin walked to the windows at the end of the hallway. The Colorado sky was bathed in the beautiful colors that heralded sunset. Evie had been right. There was no way he could have handled Chris's emotions. He could barely handle his right now. The ring from his cell phone broke into his reverie. Looking at the number, he didn't recognize it. It was a Denver number, but not one he knew. By now, reporters had most likely gotten a hold of the story and would want comments. Most of the time, he was resigned to the necessary evil of the media, but when in the midst of grief, he wished he could tell the vultures off.

"Orin Travis here," he said, steeling his heart for what was bound to be a difficult interview.

"Judge, it's good to hear your voice. We weren't sure you were gonna answer."

Orin sat down hard on a chair near the window. Damn reporter sounded much like JD Dunne. He was going to give his statement and then get off the phone. He could not take an extended interview.

"I'm sorry. I'm not giving interviews at this time. My statement is that the ATF is investigating this explosion with a narrow pool of suspects. As for the rest, please respect the needs of the families to grieve the loss of the men killed in the explosion." His voice was level and emotionless.

"Judge! We're not dead!"

"JD! Give me that phone." There was the sound of scuffling. "Judge, it's us. Thanks to the encyclopedia that is Ezra's brain, we got out of there and to a safe house courtesy of the Prohibition. It's not a sanctioned one so nobody knows where we are. Those women wanted us dead. Instead of just showing up, we've called you to ask how you want us to play this."

"I'm not sure I believe this. If it's true, where is Buck Wilmington's rubber chicken at this time?"

"Um, well, I think it's probably where it landed after I threw it at Chris's door. I don't remember picking it up."

Orin started laughing, even as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Well, Agent Wilmington, this is quite a shock. You'll be glad to hear that Chris is alive. Very dehydrated, and in rougher shape emotionally. He was forced to watch the building blow after you went in. I confirmed what he saw as true."

"Where was he found?"

"They tossed him out of the car at a rest area in Pueblo. We're at the hospital in Pueblo. Evie came with me and managed to get him to cry himself to sleep. I'm waiting on notice that the APB on the car that he was tossed from has been found. Lay low. I'll call you back once we have those women in custody. Then you guys can pull your full resurrection."

"Okay, Judge. But we're seeing Chris before we see anybody else."

"That is a deal. Hold tight."

Orin turned back to the window. The sunset now appeared to burn the sky with colors of joy. He shook his head. How they managed to pull off these miracles, he'd never figure out. Maybe Team 7 was under special protection. He started back toward Chris's room and stopped. He was a poor poker player as Ezra had told him many times. Until he could bring the team to Chris, he couldn't see the man.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

"Ezra, d'ya have an'thin' to eat?" Vin's stomach seconded his question.

"I do. Although you may not actually believe what I have stored here..." Ezra seemed embarrassed.

"I'd eat squirrel stew right 'bout now. I'm not picky."

Ezra pointed over to a foot locker stored against a wall. Vin opened it to find beef jerky, potato chips, trail mixes, and even a case of MREs. Sitting on top of the MREs was a box of Twinkies.

"Where'd ya git this stuff?"

"Despite my preferences for proper food preparation, I will eat 'junk' to keep moving."

"No, I mean where'd ya git the MREs?"

"Surely you've heard of military surplus stores." Ezra danced around the question.

Buck laughed. "Vin, he ain't gonna tell you. Let the man keep his secrets."

Ezra grinned as each man picked out an MRE. They sat down to eat, each hoping that the waiting game would not last long. They needed to get to Chris, to touch him to prove to themselves that he was alive and prove to him that they were alive. After they finished eating, Ezra pulled out a deck of cards.

"Gentlemen, may I interest you in a game of chance to pass the time?"

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

It was approaching midnight when Orin Travis's phone rang again. Looking at the caller ID, he recognized the number as the leader of Team 9. Last he knew they had been on their way back from Phoenix, Arizona. Just maybe they had come across the Navitches on their way back. If they had, he could head back to Denver instead of dosing in the hospital's idea of seating.

"Orin Travis."

"Judge, we have the Navitch women in custody. We stayed in Albuquerque after being notified of what happened in Denver, just in case they stuck to I-25," Agent Gregory Lughan reported.

"Albuquerque?" Orin looked at his watch. "Thought they would have been past there by now."

"I waited until both were in cells before calling. I didn't want to have to make a second call if they escaped from APD. Hated to put them into custody with the locals, but our car isn't big enough for two more people."

"I'll arrange transport for them first thing in the morning. Anyone hurt on your team?"

"Agent Garlitz has a bit of road rash. The younger sister was a runner. Kerry ran and tackled her, sliding across the parking lot into a grassy area," Lughan reported. "She's been checked out and is ready to 'have a long date' with her pillow."

"It's late. Crash in Albuquerque for a few hours and then head back to Denver," Orin ordered.

"Sir? Have they found any remains yet?" Lughan asked.

"No," was all Orin trusted himself to say.

"Damn. Hate the thought of Larabee having to go through this again."

Orin had to get the man off the phone before he blew it.

"Get some rest, Agent. I'll see you in Denver tomorrow afternoon."

Hanging up the phone, he saw Evie exiting Chris's room. She walked over to him.

"Doctor is taking another look at him. He's hydrated well, but they're worried that his blood sugar is still low." She raised worried eyes to her husband. "It's like he's giving up, Orin. We can't lose him too."

"I know, Evie. I have a plan to give him something to fight for, but first I need to run back to Denver. Team 9 caught the women who did this. They're in jail in Albuquerque so I need to arrange transport back to Denver."

"Now? Orin, have you slept any? I don't want you falling asleep at the wheel."

"I've been dosing out here, Evie, waiting on the news that the Navitches were arrested. I'll be back by in a few hours. I promise not to drive back by myself."

Evie sighed and nodded. She went back in to hold Chris's hand, to try to hold the man to this world.

Safely in his car, Orin called the number that would connect him with Team 7. Josiah answered with a groggy voice.

"The Navitches are in custody. They were caught down in New Mexico. I'm driving back to the office to put in the transfer order to send them back to Denver. I'll pick you guys up in about 3 hours when I'm ready to head back to Pueblo. Chris needs you."

"We'll be ready. Let me wake Ezra. He's the only one who knows the address."

Orin heard low whispering followed by Josiah giving him an address on the edge of LoDo. After hanging up with Josiah, he started driving north. He prayed that Chris would hold on for a few more hours until he could be reunited with his "resurrected" family.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Shortly after 5 in the morning, Orin Travis entered Chris Larabee's hospital room. His wife slept in a chair next to the bed. Leaning down next to her ear, he whispered, "Evie, wake up." Her eyes slowly opened and then grew large as she took in the six extra bodies behind her husband.

"Orin?" was all she could ask.

"I hated to hide it from you, Evie, but we couldn't risk Chris's safety until the perpetrators were safely in custody. I didn't know until after we had seen Chris that they were alive." Orin smiled at the joy shimmering in his wife's eyes.

"Oh, boys..." She carefully laid Chris's hand on the bed before hugging each man. Looking at her husband, she said, "Let's go get breakfast while they watch Chris."

Orin had told them about Chris's condition. Until he woke up, there wasn't much they could do to help him, but they also needed to touch him to reassure themselves that he was back with them. Vin and Buck took up seats near Chris's head and each held a hand next to their faces. JD sat next to Buck, resting one hand on Chris's leg and the other on Buck's shoulder. Ezra sat opposite of JD, laying both hands on Chris's knee. Josiah and Nathan each touched one of Chris's feet. Nathan was watching the monitors; Josiah offering silent prayers.

Chris fought waking up. He wanted to remain asleep where his dreams had reunited him with his second family. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he tried to will himself back into oblivion so he didn't have to face a world alone again.

_God,_ he thought,  _I miss them so much that I can feel them._ Tears leaked through his eyelids.

He felt his hand squeezed and heard a soft, Texan voice say, "We're here, Cowboy."

Chris bit back the sob that tightened his throat. More voices started talking to him.

"Cmon, Chris. Look at us, Pard."

"Mr. Larabee, that explosion did not cause our demise."

"The Lord works in mysterious ways, Chris."

"You need to eat so's we can take you home."

"Yeah, Chris, we want to take you home."

Chris refused to open his eyes. To open them would end the dream that was sweet torment. The soft words of encouragement kept coming as did the almost ghostly touches on his head, hands, legs, and feet.

Orin and Evie came back to Team 7 trying to get Chris to look at them. Remembering the depth of despair in those eyes the previous night, Orin suspected that Chris wouldn't believe he wasn't dreaming. Still standing in the doorway, he took matters into his own hands and barked out a command.

"Larabee! Open your eyes! That's an order!"

Chris jumped as his eyes flew open. He glared in rage at the voice that had demanded his presence. The sight he saw though was not what he expected. The six faces that he had thought were gone forever were right in front of him – solid, real, ALIVE!

"How?" came the whispered question.

"Mr. Larabee, do you think any of us would dare run out on you?" Ezra smirked at his boss, knowing just how to help the man believe.

As Chris smiled, Orin and Evie came into the room with bags of fast food. By the time everybody had their meal, the orderlies had brought breakfast for Chris. Snarling at the tiny portions, he gave into hunger anyway and ate the hospital mystery food. The doctor came in as they were finishing, and having seen that Chris was holding the food down just fine, gave permission for his release. Nathan went with the doctor to get the discharge directions while everyone else planned how to announce the resurrection of Team 7.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Team 7 hid in the small party room of the saloon and waited for the "wake" to start. Their first calls had been to those closest to them as the men were unwilling to let them continue believing in their deaths any longer. Inez had insisted that she close for a few hours that afternoon to host the wake turned party that was sure to follow the announcement. Orin headed to the Federal Building to send the invites, making attendance mandatory. Otherwise there were teams that would not show up out of spite and dislike of Team 7.

At 2 o'clock, the whole of ATF had gathered around tables. Inez and her staff poured drinks, rarely meeting anyone's eyes. They knew what was coming and didn't want to spoil the surprise. Orin Travis got up and called for everyone's attention.

"We're here to celebrate the men of Team 7. First, let's raise a glass in thanks to team 9: Gregory Lughan, Kerry Garlitz, Robert Martinez, David Petersen, and Cheryl Smith, for their fine work in capturing Beatrice and Yvonne Navitch."

Team 9 stood silently, hating the fact that Travis insisted on publicly thanking them. They would have much rather been toasting Team 7. Looking at each other, they tossed back their first set of shots.

"Now, let's raise a toast to Team 7," Orin said. "Luckiest team on either side of the Divide!"

Confused murmurs ran through the crowd as those closest to the 7 started grinning. Nettie opened the door to the private room. Cheers erupted as Chris Larabee, supported by Buck and Vin, led his team out into the party. The few grumbles and heartfelt curses were ignored by those that were thrilled at the sight of Team 7 alive and kicking! Ezra worked his way up to stand beside Travis.

"The rumors of our deaths were greatly exaggerated," the undercover agent drawled. "It pays to study your history and city architecture for times of crises."

With a laugh, Orin turned the event from the wake to a grand party. Of course, a couple of teams left immediately. He'd deal with the sour grapes on Monday. Wrapping his arm around his wife, he watched Chris Larabee and Gregory Lughan share a long handshake. Kerry laughed as Vin kidded her about the "road rash" on her right arm. After a few minutes, Team 9 moved away, mingling into the crowd. Team 7 sat down at their usual table, willing to let the party for them just happen around them.

Two hours later, Team 7 headed to pick up their vehicles from the Federal Building garage. Chris was showing signs of exhaustion and all of them were ready to celebrate away from the noise and well-wishers. Knowing the women would be coming out to the ranch tomorrow, the men wanted time to fuss over Chris without fighting them.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Seven men sat in silence, watching the sun bathe the ranch in brilliant colors. Reds, golds, blues, and purples washed over the sky. Each man relished the quiet company of his brothers.

JD broke into the silence. "Guys? Would anyone be upset if next year we skipped the fireworks for the Fourth? I think I've had enough explosions to last a lifetime."

No one said anything. Chris's shoulders started shaking. Laying a hand on a shaking shoulder, Ezra looked into Chris's face. A slow smirk bloomed. As the last colors left the sunset, seven laughing men took joy in their family, whole and together.

The End

 

**Author's Note:**

> Team 9 is my own creation. If I ever finish editing it, I have another story in which Team 9 is roped into helping Team 7.
> 
> I also researched fireworks laws by state in the US. The state of Massachusetts honestly does not even allow sparklers from what I could find on the internet. Colorado allows ground fireworks, but anything shot into the air needs a permit. I thought it plausible that the leader of an ATF team could get such a permit.


End file.
